


Undocked

by LuxeApocalypse



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Cobblepot-Nygma Family, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, One True Pairing, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: 5.11, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 06:53:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18633034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxeApocalypse/pseuds/LuxeApocalypse
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of No Man's Land, Oswald and Ed go searching for Edward the Dog at the docks.  Confessions ensue.





	Undocked

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for D and R. Out of practise so please proceed gently!

Despite Ed’s insistence that he and Oswald immediately “get to work”, very little in the way of actual “work” had been done.

For one, Oswald was racked with anxiety over the fate of Edward, his beloved dog; pacing up and down, necking shots of Scotch, screaming to the high heavens that Gotham’s streets would run crimson with the blood of Nyssa al Ghul (and Jim Gordon, to an only slightly lesser degree). Ed stood by, poised and cautious, wishing dearly for a sedative he could slip into Oswald’s drink while he wasn’t looking. That way, he could finally get on with some _real_ work while Oswald slept off his tantrum on the sofa.

But with no such means at his disposal, he had to wait and hope for his friend to burn himself out. Or collapse into a drunken stupor, overcome by the alcohol flooding through his veins; whichever came first. Ed flinched as yet another glass missile whizzed past his head and shattered against a corniche. He knew better than to attempt conciliation during times like this; once his friend got going, it was like walking headlong into a hornet’s nest. Or a tornado. Or something equally unpleasant and potentially fatal.

 _Heck_ , Ed mused, the dog was probably long gone. It was sitting on a private jet, guzzling rare Wagyu steak and buttery lobster tails administered by Nyssa’s supercilious assistants. Or it was floating in the Gotham river. Whatever. Either way, it had gotten off lightly; avoiding whatever catastrophe was next in store for this beleaguered city. One had to look at things logically, right?

Ed needn’t have worried. The tirade stopped abruptly, and Oswald stood panting in the centre of the room, insisting that they drive to the docks _right now_ to search for the toothy mutt; there was a chance, however small, that he had managed to free himself from the clutches of his new – and, Oswald hoped, temporary – mistress.

So Ed took the wheel; Oswald tense and determined beside him, occasionally breaking the façade by flailing and moaning like a dying swan. Soon, the familiar radio transmitter drew close, and the two men disembarked. They then proceeded to spend hours racketing up and down the shore, hollering Edward’s name to no avail.

Following this fruitless endeavour, Oswald burst into tears, his legs almost giving way, and Ed had to use all his earthly powers of persuasion to force him back to the car.

“It’s cold and I’m _exhausted_ and the dog isn’t here, Oswald. We have to go back.”

Oswald shook his head. _“Absolutely not._ There are nooks and crannies we haven’t checked. I’m _not_ getting in that car until we find him, Ed. Alive, or …” he paused for breath, “… or _not_. And that’s my final word on the matter!”

Ed shrugged as he ushered him over to the car. “I’ll get you another dog once things settle down.”

“Another dog.”

“Precisely.” Ed opened the car door and gestured for Oswald to climb inside.

A muscle twitched in Oswald’s cheek. He smiled, bitterly.

 _“Another_ dog, you say.”

 _Here it comes,_ thought Ed, bracing for impact.

 _“Another dog!”_ Oswald exploded. “That’s … that’s _typical_ of you! It may have escaped your notice, _Ed_ , but Edward wasn’t just _any_ dog! He was … he was my _wartime companion!_   Who lay by my side, night after night without fail, while I sat in my chair, racking my brains over how to maintain some semblance of _order_ in this city! Whose love … whose _loyalty_ was unconditional and true!” Oswald’s face morphed into a mask of tragedy, the corners of his mouth pulled down, as the tears began afresh. “Who woke me every morning by licking my face …”

“You told me you hated that.”

“That dog was _irreplaceable,_ Ed! He had a _soul!_   That dog …”

“… Made a show of caring about you purely and simply because you gave him food. No reason to think he won’t show the exact same “loyalty”, as you put it, to Nyssa al Ghul.  Assuming she actually remembers to feed him, of course.”

Oswald glowered at Ed. “Must you be so _infuriatingly_ cold? Do you seriously believe that … that _witch_ wouldn’t think twice before tossing him overboard?”

“Dogs can swim.” Ed patted the other man’s shoulder. “Look, if he survived, he’ll show up. Eventually.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped Oswald’s intact eye. “We haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I’m ravenous. You must be, too. Let’s get some food. Chinese or pizza?”

“There aren’t any restaurants left, remember?” said Oswald mournfully, glancing at the scorched city skyline as he clambered, with laboured resignation, into the passenger seat.

“Hmm. True that.” Ed slid into the driver’s seat and snapped on his seatbelt. “Baked beans it is, then. _Again.”_

“Out of a can,” sighed Oswald. “Shame the Wedgwood went with the sub. Not to mention my mother’s prized Blue Willow tea set. She collected that stuff religiously. She’d be utterly devastated if she knew …”

“Well, we can’t eat china anyway. Any steak left?”

“We put it in the sub for Edward …”

Ed huffed with irritation. “All of it?”

Oswald glared at Ed in a manner that could curdle milk. “Oh, _I_ get it now,” he spat. “Not content with declaring Edward dead and buried – _prematurely,_ I might add – you’ve the audacity to take the _food_ from his mouth on top of that!” He fastened his seatbelt with an abrupt, vicious motion. “That poor dog’s out there _starving to death_ while you’re sitting here, ranting on about steak and pizza and Chinese food! _Have you no shame?”_

 _“I’m starving too!”_ yelled Ed. “We both are! And if we don’t eat soon, there won’t be anything left of _either_ of us to take Gotham for ourselves!”

Fuming at his friend, his mouth a tight line, Oswald spun around, frantically winding down the window, and yelled in the direction of the water: _“Don’t worry Edward!_   Ignore the mean green robot! _Daddy still loves you!”_

Ed tugged on his arm. _“Shush!”_

“What? Don’t you _dare_ tell me to …”

“Did you hear that?”

“I can’t hear anything except seagulls.”

“Shush! There it is again!”

Oswald raised his eyebrows.

“There’s definitely _something_ out there.”

“Is it just me,” Ed observed, “or does it sound like whimpering?”

A glance flashed between them.

“Let’s get out of the car,” Oswald said crisply.

****************

They waited for several minutes, but the sound failed to rematerialize.

“Probably an injured bird,” offered Ed after a moment. He looked at his watch. “Shall we call it a night?”

“Listen!” Oswald hissed, pointing at an empty shipping crate about twenty feet to their right.

There was a shuffling sound, a familiar snuffle; finally, a small, squat, four-footed shadow emerged from behind the crate.

Having announced his presence thus, Edward the dog wobbled forth – a little scuffed, perhaps, but otherwise fine. His collar was intact, but his lead had snapped off. Or, most likely, had been chewed off in a panic. He waggled his little stumped tail, then perched before Oswald and Ed with a whimper, blinking his big button eyes.

 _“Edward!”_ cried Oswald, overcome with relief as he staggered towards the dazed hound. _“I knew you’d come home!”_ He scooped up the dog. “I _told_ you so, Ed! He came back to us! You brave, brave, _clever_ boy!”

“He hasn’t been hiding there for long,” Ed observed, frowning slightly as the other man lavished the pooch with nuzzles and hugs. “We already looked behind that crate once before.”

“I wonder what alerted him to our presence?” pondered Oswald, light-headed. “We’ve been shouting him for hours! I’m telling you, Ed – that she-devil better  _not_ have done anything to his mind!”

“Probably heard us bickering,” Ed replied, holding open the rear door. “Put him in the back seat, please.”

****************

Back in the car - Edward huffing, grunting and scooting about in the back - the two of them decided to take a breather.

“How quiet it is out here,” pondered Oswald, his expression dreamy.

Ed flinched as Edward, wanting to play, reared up from the back seat and pawed at his bowler hat.

“Well, it’s not like the city just narrowly avoided an apocalypse or anything.”

“The army’s starting work on the bridges tomorrow,” Oswald murmured, disregarding the sarcasm. “Once they’re up and running, we’re skipping town for a while. You, me, Edward.”

“Thought you wanted to stay put.”

“I’d say we’ve _more_ than earned the right to a short vacation,” Oswald continued. “Lady Luck is smiling down on us right now. Think about it, Ed: we survived No Man’s Land. And I say this as a man of humble disposition, but … this city arguably owes its very survival to our sacrifices.” He sighed, leaning against the headrest. “Then Edward was returned to us, by fate’s divine providence. And on top of that, you and I are … _companions_ once more, following two years of mutual enmity and heartache that would’ve destroyed lesser men.” Oswald lifted his head with a defiant snort. “We might be bent, yes, but we are far – _far!_ \- from broken.” He raised a finger. “We are not luckless men, condemned to wander aimlessly through dreary, unfulfilling lives until cold in the grave. We …”

“You ought to start paying me by the hour for listening to this. Get to the point, please.”

Oswald gazed out of the window. “Do you remember the boy, Martin?”

Ed nodded. “Crafty kid. Mute. Took him for ice-cream. Ordered pistachio and mint choc chip, as I recall. Excellent choices.”

“We’re going to find him. We’re going to bring him back home to Gotham, where he belongs.”

“Right. Next?”

Oswald exhaled. _“Next_ , I’ll get the Van Dahl manor back, as per my birthright. Then my business interests. Then my club.” He smiled. “A new, dramatically _improved_   Iceberg Lounge. One that shows up the Sirens for the downmarket hole-in-the-wall it is.”

“And then …?”

“We take the whole damn city for ourselves. As agreed.”

Ed looked away, nodding. “Then almost everything will be complete.”

_“Precisely.”_

Ed didn’t respond.

“Wait …” Oswald grabbed Ed’s shoulder, suddenly alarmed, frowning slightly. “You said _almost_ everything.”

“Let’s get out of the car.”

“What, again? I thought you were hungry … and what about Edward?”

“He’ll be fine in the back seat.”

****************

“What’s the matter, Ed?” Oswald called, pursuing his friend, who was striding away from him so purposefully that for a second Oswald feared he was about to propel himself clean into the river.

Ed stopped at the water’s edge and turned around. Prior to No Man’s Land, this area had been adequately lit from nightfall until dawn, but for now, the lights remained extinguished. Oswald could barely make Ed out in the dense, eerie darkness; it would have been next to impossible to perceive him with _two_ working eyes, let alone just one. Just slices of green satin and the faintest outline of a bowler hat, blending into the unknown.

The sight made Oswald nervous. He took two tentative steps forward; not too far, not too close.

“I’ve listened to you …” Ed began, raising his voice. “ _Listened_ , as you outlined all the things you care about. Your plans. This city. The dog. The boy.” He made a sweeping gesture. “I’ve listened to you talk about _all_ of these things, Oswald, but the one thing you haven’t talked about is _me_ and where _I_ fit in. If there’s any room left for me, that is.”

 _“Of course_ there’s room for you!” Oswald cried. “We’re doing all of this _together,_ remember? We …”

Ed cut him off. “I’m not so sure there is,” he said tightly. “At least, not anymore. Not the way you’ve been talking.”

“Ed!” Oswald pleaded, holding his nerve, barrelling forth. “You are the _one constant_ in all of this. Of that, I give you my _absolute_ assurance.” He placed his hands either side of Ed’s shoulders, shaking him lightly. “We made a pact, remember? I’m _not_ going to leave you floundering. You’ll be involved at _every_ level.”

“Involved. Like a consultant.”

“As an equal! As a _friend!”_ wailed Oswald. “Don’t bail on me now, Ed, please!”

Ed shook his head.

“What do you mean?” Oswald implored, sunken.

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Ed steadied himself. “Something I’ve been _trying_ to tell you ever since you left me at the docks to join the battle for Gotham. Something I wanted to tell you when you were injured. Only there was no time.”

Oswald regarded Ed, baffled.

“You’re dismissive, Oswald,” Ed declared, noting Oswald’s look of confusion. _“Don’t_   look at me like that – you know exactly what I’m saying. You don’t _want_ to talk with me. To really talk with me. You don’t want to talk _about_ me and my needs. You don’t even want to _listen_ to me.”

“Ed, I …”

 _“Shut up!”_ Ed roared, pointing. “It’s _my_   turn to speak. For once. Every time I try to engage you in conversation of late, you start babbling over me about _dogs_ and _cities_ and _does my eye look okay_ and god knows what else. You’ve changed, Oswald. It’s like … like you’re deliberately going out of your way to avoid connecting with me. Not like you used to. When you were Mayor, and I was your Chief of Staff.”

Oswald twitched at the reminder, but held firm.

“One would assume – not entirely without reason, I might add – you’d prefer to draw a line under those days.”

Ed shook his head wearily. “Why would I, Oswald? Those were the happiest days of my life.”

Oswald smiled sardonically. “When you were with Isabella.”

“No. Before that.” Ed spoke quietly, insistently. “When it was just you and me.”

*********************

Oswald inhaled sharply and turned away.

“Ed … I … I don’t know what to say.” He swivelled back to face the other man; took a shuddering breath. “I can’t … I can’t go down that road again.”

“Can’t, or don’t want to?”

“I … I don’t think I can answer that.”

“Fine.” Ed straightened up to his full height and tugged on his lapels. “I’ll accept _that_ as your answer, then.” He stalked past Oswald towards the dock road, barely glancing at him, almost knocking him over.

“Okay. _Okay!”_   yelled Oswald, hobbling after his friend. “I’m … I’m _scared,_ Ed. I babble and deflect and talk over you to stop _myself_   from saying something foolish!” He grabbed Ed from behind, spinning him around roughly so they were face-to-face. “Because _I_ know” – he stabbed his own chest with a finger – “and _you_ know” – he did the same to Ed – “there’s no way in _hell_ you’re _ever_ going to love me back. You _don’t_ love me, Ed, and you never did – at least, not in the way I _need_ to be loved.” His one good eye welled up. “But I need _you_ in my life regardless. Whatever it takes. _Please,_ Ed. Please don’t make me vulnerable again. Don’t destroy this happy medium. _Please.”_

“I thought you’d gotten over me. In ... in the romantic sense.”

Stricken, Oswald looked away and shook his head.

“That’s why I appealed to you,” Ed said, softening, “here on the docks, by telling you … by telling you _not_ to follow your heart.”

Oswald blinked away the threat of tears; gazed at his friend, perturbed.

“What…?”

“Damn, this … this is _hard.”_ Retrieving the handkerchief he’d used to wipe Oswald’s eye, Ed removed his glasses and quickly cleaned them. He put them back on, steadying himself, and cleared his throat. “Because I hoped there was a chance, in time, if you’d left with me in that submarine, that you’d be able to make room for me again.” His voice fractured just a notch. “In your heart, I mean.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” Oswald replied forlornly, “because you’d never feel the same …”

“But I _do,_ Oswald.”

"You ...?"

“I do,” Ed repeated, gently, then spoke quickly. “When I said I came back to take the city for myself, that… that was only part of it. The main reason …” Ed exhaled forcefully. “The main reason I came back to fight was _you.”_ He bit his lip and glanced skyward; Oswald noted the way the shadows picked out the lines of pain on his friend's face. “Because I love you, Oswald," Ed continued, shaking.  "I believe I always did. No, scratch that; I _know_ I always did. And if you couldn’t find it within yourself to live by my side, then the best I could hope for was to die by yours.”

Oswald simply couldn’t process what he was hearing. Not through the tears that ambushed his remaining eye and clogged his throat; not through the feelings he’d tried so desperately hard to bury, crushed under layers of betrayal, solidifying like cold lava; now liquefying and gathering force once more.

Here they were, at last; the words he himself had longed to say … longed to _hear_ … two years ago, and secretly still did, and he was left speechless, he…

…He recalled his time as Mayor; how the words he'd intended for Ed had been intercepted, somehow, like an unseen force had plucked them out of his throat before he could utter them. How his courage had indisputably failed him. And it dawned on him that maybe words were no use in this situation, just as they had been no use before; perhaps action was better, that he should let _Ed_ do the talking for once while he …

... Perhaps he wasn’t half the orator he _thought_ he was.

And with that - disbelievingly, impetuously - Oswald reached up to grasp either side of Ed’s face in his hands, and kissed him; feeling Ed’s mouth open beneath his own; soft at first, then devouring by turns with equal veracity, a spear of tongue brushing against his, taking Oswald’s breath away.

They released each other, but not quite; cleaving together, diving forward to grab delicious aftershocks of kisses, laughing between each one.

Ed planted a fulsome kiss on Oswald’s cheek, and folded him in his arms.

“You know it’s always been hard for me to open myself up in this way,” he whispered against Oswald’s ear as he rocked his friend gently. “But I can, if only you’d stop babbling long enough to let me.”

Oswald half-sobbed, half-laughed, still tingling from Ed’s ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he said, rearing back slightly, looking up longingly at his friend, now partner. He took the other man’s gloved hand between both of his, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “I’m sorry, and I love you too. Before, right now, and forever.”

********************

 

Ed threw an arm around Oswald as they made their way back to the car. “So finally, we're complete.”

“Well, we still have to fetch Martin,” Oswald replied, in a blissful haze, nuzzling against Ed’s shoulder. “ _And_ we have a city to conquer.”

“We will,” said Ed, beaming down at his partner, feeling lighter than he ever had.

“I _know_ we will.” Oswald smiled tenderly. “Which is why I agree with you wholeheartedly. Still hungry?”

“Yes. What do you suggest? I believe this occasion warrants something a little more special than baked beans.”

Oswald shrugged. “We could go to one of the soup kitchens.”

Ed scoffed. “I am _not_ setting foot in any soup kitchen.”

“We could dress as bums.”

“And risk being recognised? No thanks. I’d never survive the humiliation.”

“Well, we could always sneak in the back and steal some supplies. Soup kitchens don’t just have soup, you know.”

“We could raid the Sirens club," Ed suggested, gleaming wickedly. "I’m sure Barbara still has some decent food stashed away.”

“Taking the nourishment from a nursing mother and her infant! _How could you!”_

“Look, the baby’s on milk and we won’t take all of it. Just a few things.” Ed rubbed Oswald’s shoulder reassuringly.

Oswald sighed. “You really _haven’t_ changed, have you?”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Ed said, chuckling, giving Oswald a squeeze. “She’d probably gladly give us something, just to make us go away.  And after that?”

“After _that,”_ Oswald said, savouring every word, “we’ll go back to City Hall, we’ll feed Edward, and then we’ll eat. And then …” he touched Ed’s collar, “and then I want you to go to your room, fetch your pajamas, and place them on my bed, under the pillow. Next to mine.”

Ed smiled. “My pajamas went with the sub, remember?”

“Now that you mention it, so did mine," Oswald grinned back.  "No matter.  I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

 

THE END?


End file.
